


in the dark (they hold me tight)

by nvee



Category: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, F/M, Horror, Multi, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Reverse Somnophilia, Romance, Smut, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-10 13:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nvee/pseuds/nvee
Summary: Staying in a house that's more of a castle, with a man that's more hermit than a prince, doesn't sound...too bad. But there's more at play here and she wonders if she's going to get out of this one with her soul intact.





	1. men like thunder

**Author's Note:**

> or: can I get away with not giving reader/player a name? Let me know if that's not gonna work. This is gonna get pretty dark. Mostly kinky. There's going to be a many non-consensual and dubious(ly) consensual elements, so if you're not comfortable reading it, please turn back now.

The rain came down on her, unforgiving and oppressing in its force. The chill in her bones felt like it would never leave, her clothes sticking to her skin uncomfortably. **  
**

In any other situation, getting out of the rain would have been her number one priority. She had the chance to do it, a safe haven right in front of her. Except, she had the odd feeling it was the most dangerous place she had ever come across. It was a lovely building, really. The Romanesque architecture, with a tower on one side and it’s semicircular windows and arches, ivy climbing up the walls to complete the picture. The stained glass in the windows was clean but she still couldn’t really see anything beyond it. It looked like a mini castle.

The bucket hat adorning her head was drenched but having it on provided a sense of comfort in the unknown environment. 

Standing on the cobblestone path leading up to the house as was pelted by raindrops, she contemplated her options. Well, option. Her car had broken down nearby and there were no other buildings in the area. Coming here alone had not been very smart, but Anna had been needed back at the company and Willow was tied up with their other project. Her actual destination was hours away, still and this ancient building was her only escape from the rain. 

Adjusting her grip on the handle of her suitcase as it wheeled behind her, she came to a stop in front of the door. There was no electric doorbell, just an antique bell hanging next to the door. Sending a quick prayer up, she reached out to ring it, her movements awkward and unsure. 

‘Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be a serial killer,’ she pleaded inwardly with whoever was listening. Perhaps it would be better if it was abandoned? 

But her last hope was in vain as the door opened a crack, the owner of the house peering out at her. She could only really see an eye, dark grey and suspicious as it scanned her. 

“Oh, hello. I’m really, really sorry to disturb you. I just-my car broke down nearby and there’s nowhere I can go-“ 

“No.” And the door closed in her face, leaving her gaping at the ruthlessness. She thought for a second, but there was really nothing to think about. She rang the bell again, a touch more desperately. She could almost feel the person on the other side pause before the door opened again. 

“Please,” she blurted out before he could tell her to go away. “The rain won’t be letting up anytime soon, and I-you’re the only one who can help.” The door opened a little more, the pair of stormy eyes measuring her. 

“I know how inconvenient this is,” she said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. Her arms were trembling, she realized as his gaze went to them. “And I’m really sorry to intrude, but there’s just...there’s nothing I else I could do.” She maintained eye contact, trying her best to convey sincerity while the rest of her body shivered uncontrollably. Maybe that’s what convinced him in the end, because he opened the door and allowed her to come in. 

As she trudged past the threshold, the warmth hit her first, followed by self-consciousness. She was soaked to the bone, wearing a white t-shirt and denim shorts. But the strangers gaze remained steadily on her face when she finally looked up at her savior. 

She would only admit this in the privacy of her head, but the second thing she noticed about him were his broad shoulders. The long sleep robe that clothed him did nothing to hide them. The third thing she noticed was his defensive posture, his arms crossed as he practically looked down his nose at her. The first thing, of course, were his eyes. It was as if they reflected the weather outside, as if the sky itself was mirrored in his stare. His dark hair spilled across his forehead like silk, swept to one side neatly. 

He was handsome, she realized. And not very happy to have to let her into his home. She couldn’t really blame him. A discreet glance around told her the building did have electricity, as evidenced by the dim lights. The grey stone extended to the interior, with two archways instead of doors on each side of the room. The back wall seemed to have a painting hanging on it, but she couldn’t be sure due to the lack of proper lighting. 

“Thank you so much, for letting me into your home. I’m sorry for the intrusion,” she told him with a small smile, hands clasped together, tightly. He stared at them, and she unclasped them at once, sticking out a hand that was completely wet. 

He seemed to realize this as well, from the expression on his face. 

“Stay here. I’ll get you a towel,” he said, walking off through the left archway. His voice was unsurprisingly deep, reminding her of the thunder raging outside. But calmer. She waited awkwardly, wondering if she had landed herself in a serial killer’s home.

She decided savior was a better title. 

He walked back in, steps just as brisk, and handed her a fluffy white towel. She took it with no small amount of relief, thanking him profusely. She noted the way he looked away when she started drying off, secretly charmed by it. She took off her hat, shaking out her hair and drying what she could. 

“You’re a life-saver, sir. Truly, I don’t know how to...thank you?” she finished, her tone slipping into a questioning one. He had looked back at her as she drew the towel around her shoulders, smiling up at him. And now he looked stricken, like he had just seen his worst nightmare come to life. 

Did she look that bad?

“Is everything alright, sir?” she asked slowly. He visibly shook it off, nodding distractedly as he glanced back. There was nothing there. 

“Yes, follow me. I’ll show you where you can stay. It’s not safe outside in this weather,” he muttered, his steps hurried as he led her through the archway on the right. There was nothing here except for a wide staircase, and she immediately leaned back to push the suitcase handle back in its place so she could pick it up. She refused to drag it up, wheels out and all. 

It was a little heavy, and carrying it up the stairs would be tough. Something she ended up not having to worry about as it was taken off her hands at once, the savior seeming unfazed about the weight. 

She regretted not taking Tysona up on her offer of weight training. 

“I can carry it!” she hurried along, trying to reach for it as it was shifted away from her. 

“Just be careful on the stairs,” he said shortly. The top of the stairs started them down a long hallway, with several wooden doors on the left. The right side had the windows, and the floor here was different, with a smooth slate blue carpet. They came to a stop in the middle of the hallway, in front of one of the doors. “Here, this is the room. You’ll find everything you need inside.” He placed her suitcase down, pulling the handle up and allowing her to take hold of it. 

“Thank you so, so much sir!” she exclaimed, unable to believe her luck. 

“Right. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. My room is the last one down the hallway,” he stated, hesitating. She waited for him to finish. “And it’s Victor. There’s no need to call me sir.” 

She caught the way his mouth twitched to bite back his amusement. It did strange fluttering things to her, but she gave him her name anyway. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, unable to help the low laugh. She missed the way his eyes lingered, the warm flaring in them as he took a step back. 

“I’ll leave you to it then. I was in the middle of preparing dinner when you rang. It’ll be done in an hour or so, if you’re hungry,” he offered politely. She was tempted, but she had intruded enough. He read her protests before she could utter them, shaking his head with a faint smile. “It might be nice to have decent company for dinner.” The for once went unspoken, but the loneliness in the house was clear enough. 

“I’ll freshen up and join you then,” she consented. They kept smiling before Victor realized what he was doing, coughing and stepping past her. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” he told her over his shoulder, his pace swift yet unhurried. She stammered out another thank you before turning to the door. Not knowing what to expect as she pushed it open, she entered the room given to her by Victor. One of the lights was already on for some reason, dim but allowing her to take a good look at the room. It matched the overall architecture of the building, with a few hints of modern technology here and there. The four-poster bed took up a lot of room, its carved wood, and silken drapes luring her in towards the left side of the room. The bay window included a cozy window seat, with a small bookshelf next to it. She wasn’t surprised at the sight of the fireplace, with two plush armchairs facing it. 

She left her luggage in front of a chest of drawers, going over to the only other door in the room. Opening it, she flicked the light switch on and nearly fell over in relief. The shower and tub combo was an answer to all her prayers. She hurried back to her case, taking out a pair and clean clothes and toiletries. She placed them on the counter below the ornate mirror. Not sure how the hot water situation worked, she turned the shower on as she undressed. It only took a minute for the water to heat up, and she hopped in with tears of joy glistening in the corner of her eyes. The heat of the water stung at first, but she let herself relax for a moment, allowing it to reach every part of her body. The water felt like a hug she desperately needed. 

She got ready slowly, towel drying her hair and putting on her pajamas. They were the standard cotton shirt and pants, anything too risque staying at the bottom of her suitcase. It was nighttime anyway, and she honestly didn’t have the energy to wear anything else at the moment. Plugging her phone in, she turned the lights off behind her and raced downstairs. It was a potentially risky assumption, but she figured the kitchen had to be through the left archway downstairs. 

Once she was back at the entrance, she remembered the painting she hadn’t been able to study before. It was huge, taking up half the wall. And it was...quite strange, to put it lightly. There were three men painted on the canvas. Handsome, and probably ancient, if their long hair and attire was any indication. What was odd was the space left between two of the men, as if the painted had forgotten to paint the fourth character. 

Weird. But still a lovely painting. There were no signatures on the front, so she shrugged and turned to leave. And froze in place, as she felt warm breath glide across the back of her neck. There was someone behind her. It couldn’t be possible, she had been facing the painting a second ago, but she could feel them breathing, could feel the body heat-

“Is everything alright?” The moment of terror was broken, as Victor appeared through the archway, brows furrowed in concern. 

“I, um,” she stammered, whirling around towards the painting. There was no one there. “I guess. Victor, are-are you the only person living here?” She could barely breathe as she waited for him to answer. 

His eyes were unreadable as he observed her, only flitting to the painting once. “I am,” he finally answered. Then he extended his hand to her, palm up. “Are you ready to eat?” 

She glanced behind her one more time. Finding nothing, she smiled at him shakily and accepted his offer, shifting close as he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow easily. Despite the eerie silence in the house, she felt safe with Victor. She tried not to cling to him as they left, her heart stuttering at the feeling of eyes following them. 


	2. men like dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mc has dinner with Victor and an expected dream.

Her host for the night was unbearably handsome and she didn’t know what to do with this information her mind insisted on presenting to her.

The man in question had just sat across from her at the dining table. She had only gotten a brief glimpse of the kitchen before he had ushered her into the attached dining room where she was nudged toward the seat on one end of the table. Glass cabinets framed with wood bracketed a long cabinet lined with candelabra and crystals, and other tiny things she couldn’t quite identify. This room was all soft lights and solid wood, the candelabrum in the middle of the table somewhat obscuring her view of her dinner partner. 

It was uncomfortable. 

She glanced at the plate he had placed in front of her with so much care, the visible juiciness of the meal making her mouth water. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to touch it, not while she could feel his eyes on her. 

“Is the food not to your liking?” Victor questioned, watching the girl fidget instead of eating. She started at the sound of his voice, hands automatically attempting to wave off his question. 

“Oh, no. No no. I just, well,” she stumbled over words before pausing, inhaling deeply, and looking up at him with a little smile. “Thank you, for everything. And you cooked too! You’re-you’re like an angel!” She nearly cringed at what burst from her mouth, completely understanding why Victor choked on his wine. 

The wine he had poured for them both in antique glasses, that tasted like a year’s worth of her salary. But the man really had gone out of his comfort zone for her, the girl who had landed on his doorstep like a pitiful cat desperate to get out of the rain.

“Yes, well,” he began, dabbing at his lips carefully. She tried to look away, she really did. But he had beautiful hands and hopefully, Victor didn’t realize where her eyes were focusing when he looked back at her. “I was already cooking when you arrived. And as I told you, it’s nice to have the company.” 

“Do you live alone?” she asked and finally cut into the steak, nearly tearing up at the first bite. She tried to come up with the words to describe it, the way it melted on her tongue, needing to let Victor know he was a god for being able to cook like this. One look at his face and the knowing smile curving his lips told her he knew already, and he seemed pleased with her reaction. And strangely focused on it.

“I do.”

“Oh.” So he was unmarried. That didn’t rule out a girlfriend. Where was she even going with this line of thought? “So, what do you do?”

“I’m an investor,” he told her in a tone that hinted at his unwillingness to elaborate. “And you?” 

“I’m a producer!” she told him, feeling oddly bashful. “That’s why I was in the area, actually. I was heading to the old museum? The one with all the gothic art. My friend told me about it, so I came to check it out.” It seemed vague but she trusted Willow’s judgment. They hadn’t done an episode on romanesque art yet and the lady who owned the museum was going to close it down soon so she had hurried here as soon as possible. Well, that and the spot came highly recommended as a vacation place. Two birds with one stone, and all that.

“The old...museum,” Victor stated flatly. She nodded, wondering at his tone. “Do you mean the one that shut down last month?” 

She continued to smile at him. “Oh, no. It’s _going to_ close down _soon_.” Victor looked at her with slight pity. And also like she was an idiot. “You might have a different place in mind?”

“Did you get in touch with the owner before coming here?” 

No, she did not. In all her excitement for a work-vacation, she hadn’t even bothered to contact the owner. After all, Willow had come a few months back. Realizing she had been careless, and with the possibility of her plan going up in flames weighing heavily on her mind, they finished their dinner in silence. She did insist on doing the dishes, and after it became clear she wouldn’t budge, she was allowed into the kitchen. Victor insisted on hovering to make sure she wouldn’t have problems, but she decided to indulge him. He also poured them more wine, probably realizing she needed it. 

As she dried the plates, Victor seemed to have come to a decision. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.” She hoped her expression didn’t convey the defeat she felt. She also felt a little tipsy, she realized as she turned around with a slow smile.

“My return flight is in two weeks,” she informed him, head tilted slightly as she observed the way his fingers were wrapped around the stem of the glass. His nails were trimmed neatly, his palms were broad. 

He shrugged lightly, with one shoulder and surely it wasn’t as sexy as she thought it was. “I have the room. And, although it can’t compare to the museum’s pieces, I do possess a few...pieces of art with historical value,” he offered, watching her watch him.

To be very honest, she was mildly suspicious of how nice he was being. She could leave in the morning. Leave and put this entire encounter in the back of her mind, as nothing but a stranger’s kindness. But there was more here. A little in the way his eyes softened when he saw her cozy pajamas. Some of it in the way his hand tightened on the counter when she smiled at him. A lot of it was in the voice in her mind, telling her to give this a little time. She could find something here, if she stayed. 

So she decided to stay. It was more likely that he could see the slump of her shoulders and decided a little more help on top of what he had already given couldn’t hurt. 

How could she ever repay him?

At Victor’s slow blink, she realized she had said it out loud as they walked back up to the rooms, with her refusing to look at the large painting in the entrance hall. To her immense relief and slight disappointment, he only chuckled. She swore she felt it in her chest. “Don’t worry about it.” Her mind had already wandered to all the possibilities. 

“Hmm. Could I help you with breakfast tomorrow?” she asked, eager to help where she could. They came to a stop in front of her room. There was a slight chill in the air, and the rain was still going strong outside. How in the world was this side of the country a perfect spot for a holiday?

“If you’d like to,” Victor responded, seemingly unsure of it but agreeing in the face of her excitement to help. “Well, goodnight then. Sleep well.” He turned to walk to his own room but, as she turned to her own door, he stopped and turned back around. 

“Victor?” Her heart started a slow jog.

“Please come to me if there are any problems. Anything out of the ordinary, you come straight to me no matter what time it is,” he stated firmly even as her confusion shifted to surprise. And then disappointment. 

“Oh, well. Of course, thank you,” she nodded, smiling softly at his sincere concern. “I’ll go straight to bed! Sweet dreams.” He looked even more worried at that, nodding as he watched her go in. 

She did as she had told him she would, brushing her teeth and massaging her face with night cream. Lost in her thoughts of wanting to be mad at herself and calling Willow up to cry, she heard the faint sound of music. It sounded like someone was playing the piano. Turning the bathroom light off, she crept to the door of her room and cracked it open, listening closely. There was only the sound of the rain. And no sign of Victor.

Heart beating faster than normal, she headed to her bed and slid under the sheets. She lay awake in bed, listening to the rain beat a solemn tattoo outside. She almost felt like she was in a different world. The sheets were as soft as they had looked, the mattress comfortable but firm. Her phone wasn’t getting service at the moment, so checking social media was out of the question. She rolled and turned, trying to get comfortable. She wondered if Victor was asleep. Something told her he wasn’t, that he was wide awake with the knowledge of her here. She told that something to stop giving her expectations.

As she slipped under the comforting blanket of sleep, glittering smoky eyes and sharp knuckles in her thoughts, the faint piano tones reached her ears. She slipped away. 

The haziness of sleep brought strange dreams. She felt like she was floating on a cloud of soft bedsheets. There were fingers in her hair, on her cheeks, on her lips. She sighed, in restlessness and contentment as lips brushed her temple, her nose, her chin. They hovered over her mouth, she could almost feel their warmth. And then they were on her feet, a tongue sweeping along the arch of her foot. A kiss on her ankle, behind her knees. There were reverent brushes against the inside of her thighs and she was squirming now, feeling hot. Something was clawing its way up in her belly, but her eyes remained shut. 

She felt like she was falling, there was only darkness. And then there was a tongue against her clothed center, nudging and rubbing her through the thin barrier as she was pulled back out of the darkness, moaning and writhing. There was a sound, a raspy chuckle against her, a kiss on her hip before the protective clothing was pulled away, her only shield against the impending destruction. 

And destruction it was, a hot tongue sliding inside her heat, wanting more and more as she cried. It rubbed and cajoled, pulling her into a dance where she could only scream. It left her then, left her floating and drenched, before lips closed around her clit, tongue running slow circles around it and there was something sliding into her, one and then another, long fingers pumping in and out, dragging her into the sea of insanity.

And then it spoke to her. _“You’re almost there, my love. Will you come for me? Will you finally let me taste you?”_ it ended in the union of a coo and a groan, lips sucking and demanding now around her swollen nub as she came with a loud cry, eyes flying open as she sat up, breathing heavily. There was only her, uncomfortably wet and trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. 

“What the fu-” she was cut off by the sound of her own name being called out, panicked knocks on her door. “Co-coming!” She adjusted her pants quickly, running to open the door. Victor stood there, eyes blown wide in panic as they swept over form. 

“I heard you screaming, what happened?” he asked, words rough with sleep and rushing out. She stared at him, her dream coming back to her from where she had tried to bury it. He seemed to be calming down at the sight of her in once piece.

She had no words to offer. “I um. I had a bad dream.” 

“A bad dream,” he repeated, shoulders relaxing. 

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, I don’t...think this has ever happened before,” she mumbled, unable to look him in the eye. Looking away had been worse because the top of his robe was open and she could see hints of his collarbones, and his chest that she absolutely could not look at, not without going back to the dream. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly, and in the dim light of the hallway, his eyes were nearly silver, melting and focused on her.

_‘Do I want to talk about it?’_ she thought hysterically. Does Victor need to know he was influencing her dreams? “No,” she said a little too loudly. “No, it’s better if I don’t.” She was sure her cheeks were flaming red, and she hoped the lighting was too dim for him to see it. She was feeling a little too hot with him so close, his hands twitching as if he wanted to pull her close. 

Her wishful thinking was getting out of hand.

“Well, alright then. Do you need anything?” he asked, finally reaching out to brush her damp hair off her forehead. 

_‘You!’_ her thoughts called out solely to torment her and she shook her head quickly, stepping back into the safety of her room. “No, but thank you. I’m really sorry I woke you up.” He only waved her concerns away. 

“I hope you sleep better now,” he told her, only blinking when she wished him goodnight and slammed the door shut. He continued to stare thoughtfully at her door, before turning his gaze down. 

She had been so distracted by his robe, something he was a little thankful for since it had allowed her to miss the way his own eyes had zeroed in on her face. That was no bad dream. He had been startled out of bed by the sound of her cries, by the time he had first knocked on her door the cries had transitioned into moans that sounded like they were designed with his own end in mind. Face flushed, he had resigned himself to checking on her anyway.

But had it really been a dream? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it wasn't Victor :)


End file.
